Harry Potter and the Mystery of Death
by LostLetter
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts ended badly for all and, especially, for the Golden Boy. Forced to cope with the disastrous outcome, Harry chooses to give up what was never rightfully his and let himself be engulfed by oblivion. But Fate seems to have something more in store for him and what has he ever been, but Fate's pawn?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

He ran, and he ran, and he ran. He didn't know where, but he knew he had to escape from the city. They were still after him, growling and snarling, their heavy footsteps echoing on the empty streets. He had his bow and arrows on his back, but he couldn't reach them like this. All hope seemed to seep out of his body until he spotted the beginning of a forest a couple of meters ahead. With a half plan in his mind, he changed directions. A rush of adrenaline filled him and made a terrifying grin stretch across his face.  
 _'Let them come'_ he thought, green fire dancing in his eyes.

* * *

'I fail to understand why you brought this up to me, Hestia,' Hades replied, a touch of bitterness in his voice. 'It was their own foolish mistake to throw me out of Olympus and now they have to suffer the consequences.'

The girl across from him didn't say anything. The 9 year-old-looking-goddess just continued to nurture the fire while the flames crackled merrily. There was a small frown on her face and a deep, but usually concealed, sadness in her eyes.

'I'm not asking anything of you, Hades,' Hestia said, with a desperate undertone, 'but, _please_ , don't let it consume you, too,' she finally pleaded. The state of Olympus was deplorable at best and Hestia didn't know what to do to change it, but at least she could prevent the worst from happening. 'I know you don't have any obligations to it, but it was _home_ and _now_ , it's all- _It's all out of control_!' the goddess of the hearth nearly shouted, suddenly feeling hysterical, because it all started from something so _silly_ , but _serious_ and-

… and a moment later both Hades and Hestia tensed, because the forest was too _silent,_ almost eerily so. Hades stood up, slowly looking and turning, trying to find the source of their discomfort.

He was in front of Hestia in a protective manner, when he heard it, almost too quietly at first. But after a while the sound of beasts could be clearly distinguished along with a swift wind and then a _boy_ , a merely _7-year-old-boy_ , burst into the small clearing, making both the god and goddess startle. He was running towards them and just when Hades was ready to attack, he jumped on the stone the god was previously sitting on, turning in mid-air and letting four arrows loose at the same, hitting the hellhounds that were just making themselves known. The arrows were clearly imbued with _something_ , because just when they hit the demons, they burst into green flames, while slowly disintegrating into dust.

And then the youngling proceeded to land on his behind, rubbing his back whilst muttering to himself. Hades didn't… quite know _how_ to react after that spectacle and Hestia wasn't much better herself. It was clear that the boy was a demigod, with him being haunted by hellhounds of all things, but at the same time there was something _different_ about the boy, something they couldn't place.

'So you're the king of the Underworld, huh?' a young voice interrupted their musings, though there was a quality to it that was usually absent in children his age. Hades and Hestia didn't know what to say, so they kept on staring. _'This is what shock must feel like'_ , thought the goddess, oddly detached.

Moving his eyes from one divine being to the other, the demigod added, addressing Hades: 'Would you mind calling Thanatos?' he asked with a wry grin. 'I believe he would be better at explaining _this_ than me.'

'This?' asked Hades, with his usual dry tone.

' _All_ of this,' responded the boy, green eyes flashing.

* * *

And thus, the world met its protector. And the gods? Their _salvation_.


	2. Book 0 Act 1 The Master and Servant

*The audience whispers and fidgets*

BOOM!

*Silence*

...

*The curtains open*  
*Cue the applause*

*Appears in a black suit with a half mask on and bows*

Hello to all! who have graced me with their time and presence today. My name is LostLetter and I am the scenarist, director and storyteller of this once-small-and-half-disregarded idea. I'm going to try my best to shock, amuse, horrify, anger and, quite hopefully, make you enjoy yourselves. So, without further ado, here it is!

 **Harry Potter and the Mystery of Death**

* * *

Summery: The Battle of Hogwarts ended badly for all and, especially, for the Golden Boy. Forced to cope with the disastrous outcome, Harry chooses to give up what was never rightfully his and let himself be engulfed by oblivion. But Fate seems to have something more in store for him and what has he ever been, but Fate's pawn?

Disclaimer: All of the aforementioned characters are J.K Rowling and Rick Riordan's toys. I'm just playing with them in the sandbox.

* * *

 **Book 0. Act 1. The Master and Servant.**

There was nothing. Nothingness.

Well…

That was a lie.

There were many things laying around, Harry thought idly. Pieces of debris, boulders of different sizes, small and sharp glass shards. The wind could be seen moving and playing with the dust, sending cold caresses across the skin…

Ah! but when talking about the opposite of nothing, one shouldn't forget the colours. The form, size and shape of objects is all well and good, but the colour of it… it's another thing completely. Because, really, what is the Earth without a bit of colour, but a big slump of stuff? So, they should be included as well.

Harry looked around, seeking something other than the greyness that encompassed the clearing. He began walking, _light grey, dark grey, almost white-grey_ , then running, _looking_ for _something_ –

-when he found it.

 **Red.**

* * *

And suddenly it was everywhere.

It began to pool around his feet, surrounding him. The colour contrasted sharply with the aforementioned, dull greyness. And it was that colour, that _gut-wrenching_ **colour** , that brought Harry's mind to its usual clarity.

 **Red**. _Blood._

Harry raised his head.

Bodies.

Emotionless eyes on familiar faces with sickly white skin, stuck in the same horror-stricken pose. Motionless.

But no second after he had had that thought, he felt something grip his leg. ( His feet continued taking him closer to the bodies still.) Harry looked down, right into the eyes of a human, a living person.  
His hair was a mess, coated in a dark substance. His face was gaunt, shallow, bony. His eyes sparked with recognition upon seeing him and his mouth tried to form words, it no longer could.  
" Harry… Potter", the being managed to rasp out, " Boy", a deep shaky inhale, "who… _lived_. Save… us…"  
And then his eyes rolled upwards and his head lolled one time, before hitting the ground with a quiet _thud._

His grip loosened as his soul left its body. Harry looked around once more.

Grey. Different shades, _one_ colour.

Red. Blood. Bodies… dead. Bodies

Friends, classmates, professors, aurors, strangers. (Everything began to come back). Voldemort.

The silence was deafening. There was a ringing in his ears. He didn't remember hitting the ground, only seeing the… the _greyness_ that was the sky.  
Harry fell unconscious, with one word repeating in his mind.

 **Death.**

* * *

A/N: So... how was it? A bit depressing, I know, but necessary ( I get the feeling of being that one author we all hate for torturing his characters). I apologize for those who've waited this long for another chapter. I just never got around to writing it. I will try to upload a new one at least once a month, but who knows? Life's hectic.  
I would really appreciate hearing your comments, so don't forget to review! If you expect an answer back, just finish your message with a " * " at the end, and I will respond. Have a pleasant day, people!


	3. The Master and Servant: Part II

Harry opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. He looked up at the ceiling before getting up to gaze out the window, that showed a clear, sunny day. A soft groan escaped his lips, as he let himself fall back in bed, staring aimlessly ahead. The past months have been grueling to him, to say the least.

* * *

 _"Harry, you can't continue on like this." A feminine voice said behind him._

 _"I don't know what you are talking about, Hermione", the Savior said without sparring his friend a glance, busy with the task at hand. With the help of the ambient magic that still surrounded Hogwarts, the job of rebuilding the old castle came easily to him. The construction ward was happy to accept him when he first volunteered, and soon many more began joining in. The reconstruction of Hogwarts became an a priority after the war, when the muggleborn, and many of the halfblood, children had nowhere else to go get their schooling, during the year._

 _"You forget to eat, to drink, and only do so when we remind you. You don't sleep and your temper gets the best of you when anyone tries to start a conversation," Hermione listed off in an angry tone." You can't tell me this is_ healthy _!_ Just look at yourself! _" And true to her words, the Golden Boy didn't look so good. His eyes held deep shadows underneath, he appeared even thinner than before and the once- warm boy, barely talked to his friends anymore._

 _"Harry, are you even listening to me?!" Hermione screeched, while Harry finished putting back the damaged wall, "You've been doing this all day!"_

 _"As opposed_ to what _, Hermione? " he asked, eyes flashing, pinning her and keeping her frozen with the intensity enclosed deep within, before wearily closing them. He turned his back on his friend and took a few calming breaths. The truth of the matter was that he_ couldn't sleep _. He_ couldn't eat _or_ drink _or_ socialize _or do anything and everything that Hermione thought to be normal. There was, however, a constant buzz, a constant need to do_ something _._

 _" I am sorry," a pause, "I shouldn't have snapped at you." Harry turned to face her and continued. " I just, I can't_ not _do anything, 'Mione! There are so many things to change, to do, to make it all_ better _and no one is doing anything!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands out. " I can't settle for this when I know we can change it all!" Hermione didn't say anything and just stood there, speechless by the image Harry presented, his posture straight, his head held high and eyes ablaze with emotion and power._

 _" You aren't talking just about Hogwarts now, are you?" his friend asked, after pulling herself together. Hermione was looking at him with wide eyes, before suddenly narrowing them in thought. He could see her mind working furiously,_ "As per usual," _Harry thought with amusement. But what her mind came up with next, knocked the air out of him for eternity._

 _" Ever thought about running for minster, Harry?"_

* * *

A snort escaped his lips as he remembered that part. Hermione became obsessed with the idea as soon as she saw that he didn't have anything against it. And so, the campaigning began. In less than two weeks, the office was his and the Wizarding World met its first post-war minister.

Knowing that he couldn't dawdle anymore, Harry got out of his bed. He began stretching his body and putting on some clothes, when three particular objects caught his attention. Ah, yes. A small smirk graced his features. Today was the day.

* * *

 _Looking around his desk, full of papers that needed his signature or approval, Harry felt, for once, happy with his choices. Or, well, not happy- but definitely content. The world finally came into some sense of order, even though he personally hadn't._

 _Hogwarts was back on her feet with McGonagall as her headmistress and, together, they managed to make some long-since-necessary changes. They fought to include Wizarding studies in the curriculum, that brought back some of the Olde Ways and Holidays, to ease the muggleborns and halfbloods into the magical world and to soothe the ruffled feathers of the purebloods. They brought in professors, competent ones this time around, mentors and counselors... and an exorcist for Binns._

 _As minister, he was also able to move through all of the spells and branches that were labeled as "dark" and lift the banner off. Not from all of them, of course, but the majority that were put up after Voldemort's rise were completely ridiculous. "_ No wonder many of the magical families were mad," _Harry comtemplated. Speaking of... the swift decisions that he had made as minister put many of the Wizengamot members on the defence, as they weren't quite sure where he was going with them. But he_ had _gained many supporters from both the dark and light pureblood families with the already-implemented course of action. He was, now, trying to get magical creatures included in their legislation as citizens, but he still had ways to go._

 _If anyone were to be in the same room with Harry, they would have seen the smile full of satisfaction that was on his lips. Minister at twenty already… He was still surprised that not many objected his ambition for the position and even Amelia Bones, someone who, while usually composed, he was sure would throw a fit at the idea of him being the minster, took one good look at him, at the plan and campaign that he and Hermione had written together and said: " You have my support, Potter. Just- hurry up, already."_

 _He wan't a fool. He knew, that even if others were to object, once he began the campaign, the public vote was his. He was, of course, the public's darling. The Savior. The Boy-Who-Lived. And soon, The-Boy-Who-Dared-to-Run-for-Minister. With the chaos that the war has created, the people needed an authority figure that they could trust. And he_ was _perfect for the job. "A little young, but easily controlled, probably", they must have thought._

 _A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. Oh, how surprised_ were _the politicians when he took control of the country and began utilizing the power presented before him.  
_

 _Harry relaxed back into his seat and looked out the window, the smile wiped clean off his features._

 _But… sometimes... he couldn't help but think that this_... _this_ power _, was **all** that he really is._

* * *

And now at twenty-three, with society finally functioning again, Harry was free to work on some of his own problems.

"Starting", he thought, while approaching his nightstand; he picked up a ring and at looked at it in the morning sun, before putting it on, a cloak that he threw over his shoulders with years of practice and, just as he was about to head to the door, a wand appeared in his hand, which he gripped firmly,

"… with the hallows."

* * *

A\N: Hello! I am not dead! Ha! Can you imagine?

...

Anyway, thank you for reading. I await with bated breath your comments. I hope this chapter didn't dissapoint all that much and I'll be sure to be back with more, soon. Untill then...

Sayonara~


	4. The Master and Servant: Part III

_And now at twenty-three, with society finally functioning again, Harry was free to work on some of his own problems._

 _"Starting", he thought, while approaching his nightstand; he picked up a ring and at looked at it in the morning sun, before putting it on, a cloak that he threw over his shoulders with years of practice and, just as he was about to head to the door, a wand appeared in his hand, which he gripped firmly,_

 _"… with the hallows."_

* * *

Since the end of the battle, Harry realized something was… off. It was an uncomfortable itch, something that he couldn't just scratch and get it over with. At first he thought that it maybe was all of the energy and the skittishness that the years have accumulated, in preparation for a confrontation with Voldemort. So, he figured that he could just work it off, until it, whatever it was, disappeared. What he didn't count on was the almost drug-like state that he had, inevitably, induced himself in. The idea did work, but perhaps a bit too well. With the goal clear in mind, that uncomfortable buzz became bearable, and sometimes it stopped altogether. But… by then Hermione had noticed the way he behaved himself and when he didn't even come to the dinners that the Weasley matriarch invited him to, in favour of working and hauling himself in Grimmauld Place, she decided to take actions.

The sudden involvement in the political and social life of the Wizarding World did got him out of his vegetable-like state, as his friends have once oh-so-nice described it as, either by necessity or choice. He had to give speeches, make alliances, offer position to those who trusted as competent people. The balls, cultural festivities, political brunches and dinner parties- all demanded his attention and presence. The position of Minister asked for nothing, but his best, and more, only if he really wanted to make an impact, of course. During those years he did something completely out of his characteristic behavior and began to study. The law, the rules of conduct, different branches of Magic, the Olde Ways became his life. He grew into the role that he had, this time around, chosen for himself.

But still, something was missing… _and the buzzing didn't stop._

* * *

The thought that this may have something to do with his magic, gave him a pause. He had learned that all magic is sentient, in some way or form, a fact which explains accidental magic that happens around young children in danger. And he had been ignoring his, since the Battle of Hogwarts and the following few weeks that consisted of the reconstruction of the outer building, he had never once spared a thought about the long-lasting-effects of the horcrux and the hallows .

But that still left him at an impass. Because, _what the fuck was going on?  
_

* * *

People say that the first step to solving a problem is being aware of it.

Harry would like to tell those people that they know _shit,_ because that certainly wasn't true in his case.

As soon as the thought that something happened with his magic crossed his head, the buzzing has grown in volume, the itch getting more irritating than ever and he still wasn't any closer in figuring it out.

Thankfully, Hermione came to his rescue. Again.

* * *

 _They were both workinng in his bureau, when Hermione finally dropped the one million dollars question._

"Hey, Harry?" she softly asked, while she examined the documents he had grasped in his hands, "Which ring is that one?"

"Which one, Hermione?" he inquired distractedly.

"The one on your ring finger? I know you have," she threw him a slight glare, for not giving her his whole attention, before pointedly looking at his hand,"the Potter and Black rings, courtsey of your parents and Sirius, but what about _that_ one?"

"Hmm?" Harry hummed, looking over his papers, before sparing a glance to his left hand. Once he caught sight of the ring that Hermione was referring to, his eyes widened imperceptibly and he froze. Because he clearly remembered _not_ putting that ring there.

He certainly recognized it, how couldn't he? But the last time he held it, he was prepared to drop it in The Forbidden Forest and never look back.

"That's... the Peverell Ring," he whispered.

"Oh?" Hermione adopted a light voice, " I didn't know that you took up that lordship as well."

"Indeed," he intoned, caressing the stone, before decidedly returning to his work. He'd think about it later.

* * *

 _... some time later..._

Scourging the Ministry's archive for a solution, certainly hasn't been his first idea, while confronted with the issue of his buzzing fiend and now the Peverell Ring, but hey! Better now than later, aye?

When his lunch hour came, Harry became a savage and the Archive, his prey. He all but threw himself at its doors, trying to get there quicker, because while the Archive contained all the boring data about contracts, treaties, degrees, personal files and the like, it also contained a vast amounts of books, from banned Magiks or confiscated items from Auror Hunts. In other words, _exactly_ what Harry needed.

* * *

And that's how Harry found out about the ritual.

And that's _exactly_ what he's going to be doing now.

* * *

A/N: Hello to all those of you who have not forgotten this story, yet.

*tentatively smiles and waves hand* Hi.

I know, I know, I'm to blame. And I have no excuse, or at least no non-pathetic-sounding excuse for not putting more content out there. But!

BUT.

I figured out an idea of how to keep myself motivated or if you care, how you can keep me from taking long-lasting vacations from writing. I made a new Instagram account, completely unrelated to my personal one, where I'll post pictures of books, poetry, ideas and just stuff that I write, plus updates of my writing process. It's entitled LostLetterInsta, and if you want to, I don't know, rant or know what the heck I'm doing other than continuing this story, you can find all about that there! *proud smile*

So, you know where to find me, I wrote my piece, now is your turn! Do review, if this chapter pleases you.

... and even if it doesn't, still do! I need to know if I'm doing something right.

For now,

Sayonara~


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